


a little birdie told me

by somehowunbroken



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-26 12:33:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17141828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: Mitch and Dylan are totally happy in their relationship. That doesn't mean they want to tell everyone they've ever met about it, but hockey players are nosy. Maybe pretending to date other people while secretly actually dating each other will help?





	a little birdie told me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [restitched (beingothrwrldly)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beingothrwrldly/gifts).



> hi restitched! i saw your list of prompts, and i saw "secret and/or fake boyfriends" and i knew what i had to do. there is a nice, healthy dose of fluff and cute couple things, too. i hope you enjoy it, and that you have a very happy holiday!
> 
> thanks to ari for reading this over for me <3

"So, like," Mitch says, and then doesn't add anything to it.

Dylan does his best not to tense up. "Was there more to that thought, or did you just want to say some words?"

Mitch laughs, but something about it sounds nervous. "Can't it be both?"

It's the lazy end of summer, by which Dylan means they're taking a day off from their training for the sole purpose of spending time together. The season is approaching quickly, and while Dylan loves hockey and can't imagine wanting to do anything else with his life, he hates that it means months that he and Mitch won't be able to spend together. They managed last year, even though it had been tough, and the summer has been amazing.

Or, at least, that's what Dylan had thought. There are nerves twisting up his stomach now, though, because Mitch is frowning and rubbing his thumb against his index finger like he only does when he's about to do something he's nervous about. Dylan hasn't seen him do it since Mitch asked him out last summer, words running together as he tripped over what he wanted to say, and all Dylan can think is _no, nope, not giving this up without a fight_.

"Sure, it can be both," Dylan says, going for casual. "But, like. If you're going to break up with me—"

"What?" Mitch demands, frown deepening. "Why the fuck would I do that?"

Dylan exhales loudly and feels the tension in his neck release. "I don't know," he says. "When's the last time you didn't just, like, spit out whatever was on your mind?"

Mitch laughs a little. "Babe," he says, voice fond. "Your brain jumps to the worst possible scenario way too quickly."

"It might help if you'd tell me whatever you were gonna tell me," Dylan says. "Possibly. Maybe. There's a chance it could be helpful."

"I think we should pretend to date other people," Mitch says.

"You," Dylan says, but this time he's the one who can't finish a sentence. "What?"

"We should pretend," Mitch repeats. "Because, y'know. We said we didn't want it to get around that we were together, and people would be way less likely to figure it out if they thought we were dating other people."

Dylan can only blink for a moment. "What the fuck," he finally manages.

"Like, you pick a teammate," Mitch says patiently. "And I pick a teammate, and—"

"And we trick them into thinking we want to date them?" Dylan asks, frowning.

"No, what," Mitch says, frowning again. "We tell them that it's fake, obviously."

Dylan spreads his hands out in front of himself. "Why?"

Mitch shrugs a little. "Fun?"

"Fun," Dylan repeats. "That sounds like fun to you. I'm dating a complete and total weirdo."

"Like you didn't know that already," Mitch says, grinning. "Look, some of the guys on my team have hinted that they want to set me up with someone, because apparently it's weird that I'm supposedly single."

Dylan raises an eyebrow. "I mean, it kind of is. Who wouldn't want to date you?"

One of Dylan's favourite things about Mitch is how bashful he gets about the weirdest things. He can handle it when people say good things about his hockey, sure, but any kind of personal compliment makes him go beet red in the blink of an eye. It's adorable, and Dylan grins when Mitch smiles and looks away, cheeks flushing. "I mean," he says. shrugging a little. "I just don't know how long they'll buy that I'm totally happy being single, and it's gonna get weird if I keep turning down whoever they want to set me up with. It would be easier, y'know?"

Dylan sighs. "We could just tell them."

"No," Mitch says immediately,. "No, Dylan. You said you didn't want to yet, and I don't want you to do it just because I can't get my teammates off my back."

"I didn't think it would be a big deal," Dylan says, shrugging and trying to smile. "I figured it would just be until I really made it, y'know? Until nobody could say anything about me being distracted by dating someone who lived so far away or whatever. And, well…"

"I'm going to throw Rick Tocchet into a volcano for you," Mitch promises. "Or maybe the sun."

It makes Dylan laugh, which was probably Mitch's goal. "I just want the chance to play."

"And you deserve to get that chance," Mitch says. "I'm sorry Arizona doesn't know a good thing when they have it."

Dylan shrugs. "I mean, me too. Hopefully this year is different."

"I hope so," Mitch says. "And if you really don't want to, Dyls, we don't have to do the fake dating thing. I know it's a dumb idea."

"It is," Dylan agrees. "But you might be right. It could be fun."

Mitch brightens instantly. "Wait, really?"

"I mean, assuming I'm allowed to, like, cuddle my fake boyfriend," Dylan says. "I like cuddling."

"Yeah, the whole world knows that about both of us," Mitch says dryly. "Cuddling is on the table. I guess holding hands is, too."

Dylan frowns a little. "I don't want to kiss anyone else," he says, "but if the team thinks I'm dating someone…"

Mitch makes a face. "I guess," he says. "Maybe I'll tell the team I don't like kissing."

"Or PDA," Dylan says. "But we wouldn't be in this situation if our teammates weren't nosy assholes, so I don't know how well that would work."

"Ugh," Mitch says with feeling. "Fine, okay. If it comes up, then kissing other people is fine."

Dylan can hear how weirded-out his own laugh sounds. "This is insane. You know that, right? That this is crazy?"

"But the fun kind of crazy," Mitch says, laughing. "The kind that will be hilarious to tell our grandkids someday."

It's Dylan's turn to blush; Mitch has this way of talking about them as a sure, forever kind of thing that Dylan never knows how to deal with. It's not that he doesn't feel that way, too, but it's a lot to hear out loud sometimes. "Yeah," he says instead of voicing any of that. "So I guess we have to pick who we're going to ask, right?"

Mitch grins at him. "Absolutely. Let's get planning."

-0-

The best thing about being back in Arizona, Dylan thinks, is that he's actually going to get a _chance_ this year. He's talked to Tocchet and to Chayka, and he knows that they believe in him, that they want to really see what he can do after his time in the AHL last season. They've given him repeated assurances that he's part of the plan for the future. He's so ready to get started, and he can tell the rest of the guys are, too.

 

He gives himself three days of camp before putting Mitch's ridiculous plan into motion. It's not that he doesn't see the point of what Mitch was saying; the guys haven't really given him much shit about not dating or even hooking up, but he's pretty sure it was due at least in part to how much he was up and down last season. He can absolutely believe that he's in for more of it this year, and he knows that it had gotten a little relentless last year for Mitch. Still, though, he wants a few days to just settle back into the feeling of _team_ before he throws a wrench full-force into the works.

 

"Hey, man," Dylan says as practice draws to a close on day three. He sits down next to Crouser, knocking their shoulders together. "How's it going?"

 

"So far, so good," Crouser says, smiling like it's the easiest thing in the world. Dylan has no problems at all figuring out why he and Mitch had been such good friends in juniors.

"Good summer?" Dylan asks. "Do anything crazy?"

Crouser's smile goes impossibly brighter. "Yeah, uh," he says, glancing around before leaning in. "I might have finally… made a move. One that I've been thinking about making for pretty much forever."

Dylan blinks, then smiles back. "Wait, did you finally pull your head out of your ass and realise that Konecny—"

"Shhhhh," Crouser says, flapping a hand at him, but now he's smiling _and_ blushing, so Dylan's definitely right. "Maybe that, though."

"Dude," Dylan says, laughing and knocking their shoulders together again. "I'm happy for you. That's so awesome."

Crouser's smile doesn't fade, not really, but it gets… quieter, maybe, Dylan thinks. A little more private, somehow. "It is," he says. "I'm happy, y'know? It's new still, but it feels…"

"Good," Dylan fills in. He for sure knows the feeling, even if Crouser doesn't necessarily know that Dylan knows. "Dude, seriously, congrats. Tell TK that I said he better treat you right, yadda yadda yadda."

Crouser laughs. "He can take you."

"He can," Dylan agrees. TK is small, but he's super fighty. "Still, though. I'd take the L for you, buddy."

"Thanks, man," Crouser says, beaming. "How was your summer?"

Dylan grins. "It was good," he says, This is the part of the conversation where he figured he'd ask if Crouser wanted to grab lunch, explain the Mitch situation and their plan, everything like that, but he doesn't have to be able to see the future to know that it wouldn't go over well, not with a newly boyfriended-up Crouser. Not that he thinks Crouser would be mad, not really, but he'd definitely get his ass laughed out of a restaurant with no fake boyfriend to show for it. That possibility was always there, but now Dylan knows it's pretty much a sure thing.

"Good," Crouser replies, easygoing smile back in place. "Glad to hear it, man."

They talk for a little while longer, aimless chatter about summer workout routines and training camp and how they both hope the team is going to suck at least a little less this year. It's nice to catch up, to renew some of the easy camaraderie that he'd had with Crouser last season, even if he knows that he's going to have to figure something else out on the fake dating front. Maybe Mitch will have a better plan; Dylan can ask him when they Skype tomorrow after practice.

His problem actually resolves itself the next day, though, when Chych drapes himself dramatically in his stall while they're getting ready for a scrimmage. "I've been dumped," he announces to the room at large, putting his hand over his heart. Chych is a goddamn drama queen, and Dylan's well aware of how hypocritical it sounds coming from him. It's actually somehow worse now that Chych is on IR. "Apparently I got dumped in April and I didn't even know it."

"Rough," Perls says. "She leave you for someone with actually good facial hair, or—"

"Fuck you too," Chych says, saccharine sweet, and the room erupts into laughter.

Dylan's got an entire practice to come up with a plan, which is probably why he ends up sitting across from Chych at a sandwich place a few blocks from the rink, brain running through a hundred different ways this whole thing could go. He's always better at doing things on the fly; he can see all the plays laid out in front of him, and he's pretty good at picking the right one in the moment, but his track record with planning shit out ahead of time is somewhat less admirable.

"So, uh," he starts. "Sorry you got dumped."

Chych laughs easily. "Nah, dude, it's fine," he says. "We weren't super serious, and apparently she found someone amazing over the summer. I'm happy for her, y'know? I'm just a dramatic asshole for fun sometimes."

"Good," Dylan says, smiling. "Speaking of thinking being a dramatic asshole is fun, though, I have a question for you."

Chych stares at him for a solid ten seconds before cracking up. "That's a hell of a way to transition into something," he says. "What the fuck can you possibly follow that up with?"

"I need you to pretend to date me in front of the team," Dylan says bluntly.

Chych stops laughing to stare at him, but then starts laughing again, harder than before. "You _what_?"

Dylan sighs, but he can feel the smile tugging at his lips. "I know," he says. "Trust me, I know it's nuts."

"Are you trying to make someone jealous or something?" Chych asks. "Because I've always thought it was kind of weird, hoping someone would be jealous enough to fake break you up with someone else just so they could get with you."

Dylan blinks. "I've never really thought about it that way," he says thoughtfully. "But that's for sure not it. I, uh. I'm seeing someone from back home, and they suggested that we both do it. Someone to kind of… throw everyone else off the trail, you know?"

"Why?" Chych asks, smile slipping off of his face. "I mean—and correct me if I'm wrong here, man—it sounds like it's a dude, if I'm playing the pronoun game right, and if it was a coming out of the closet thing, then you wouldn't be asking another dude about it."

Dylan sighs. "It's a little complicated," he says. "We both play, right? I didn't want to say anything about dating someone on another team while I wasn't sure of my position on the team here, and his teammates have been kind of annoying about trying to set him up with someone, so he came up with the idea."

Chych is quiet for a moment, clearly thinking. "Is it Connor McDavid?" he asks. "Because if I get to boyfriend-in-law Connor McDavid, bro, I'm so in."

Now it's Dylan's turn to laugh, loud and bright. "God, no," he says, amused. "Davo's got his own thing going on. Pretty serious, but I'm not involved in that at all." Not that Dylan necessarily understands what Connor sees in his older brother, but he's ridiculously happy for the both of them, even though he wants literally no details ever.

"So," Chych says, frowning. "I mean, don't tell me if he doesn't want to be outed, man, but I'm so curious about whoever came up with this plan."

Dylan raises an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm super allowed to tell you; that's part of the whole arrangement we came up with," he says. "I'm just surprised you haven't already figured it out, I guess."

Chych shrugs a little. "I mean, my first guess would have been Marns, but he's, like, the single-est guy I know."

Dylan can't help his snort. "Yeah, uh, about that."

Chych starts laughing again. "Fucking— _really_?"

"Really really," Dylan confirms, grinning. "So, how about it? Want to be my fake boyfriend to make my real boyfriend happy? I promise to treat you right, baby."

"I require hand-holding," Chych says seriously, but his smile makes Dylan think he's actually pretty close to laughing again. "And, like, lots of movie watching."

"Deal," Dylan says. It might be ridiculous to actually reach out to shake on it, Dylan thinks, but it's not like it's making this whole situation any more surreal, so he goes for it anyway.

"Deal," Chych agrees, shaking Dylan's hand. "This is gonna be lit, bro. Let's fake boyfriend this shit up."

-0-

"But Chychrun is prettier than me," Mitch says when Dylan tells him the news. "Fake dating cancelled. It was fine when it was gonna be Crouser, but I can't get out-prettied by your fake boyfriend."

Dylan laughs. "Okay, first, I'm telling Crouser you said he was ugly," he says. "Also, there's a zero percent chance that Chych is prettier than you."

Mitch blushes, and the Skype camera is kind enough to pick up on it for once. "You're a liar," he says, but he's clearly pleased.

"Nope, complete truth-teller over here," Dylan replies, smiling. "Did you end up asking Matthews?"

"I did," Mitch says, grinning. "He turned the absolute best shade of red I've ever seen in my life, oh my god, but he also let me hold his hand when we were walking into practice this morning, so I'm going with it."

"I can't believe we're doing this," Dylan says, laughing. "Chych called himself a dramatic asshole this morning at practice, and all I could think was 'oh, buddy, you have no idea.'"

Mitch laughs with him. "It's funny, though," he says. "And it helps that Auston has this huge thing for someone else on the team but is way too chickenshit to ever make a move, so at least this way he gets cuddles from _someone_."

"Oooh, he does?" Dylan says, settling back against his headboard. "Tell me more."

Mitch waggles his eyebrows. "It's a defenceman."

"How scandalous," Dylan says. "Rielly?"

"Is he that obvious?" Mitch asks, laughing. "Please tell me he is. He'll be mortified."

"Only if you know what you're looking for," Dylan says. "I know I made the same kinds of faces he makes at Rielly when I looked at you before, though, so I guess it's just that I'm familiar with it."

Mitch's smile is bright enough to make Dylan's heart clench a little. "Except we weren't too chickenshit to do anything about it," he says. "Or at least I wasn't, and now we're here."

"Romantic," Dylan says, knowing his voice is a little too fond for Mitch to buy it as sarcastic. "That's going in my wedding vows."

"It better," Mitch says, laughing. "So, any fake dates planned with your fake boyfriend yet? Matty and I are gonna go to the movies. He's picking and I'm paying."

"Brave," Dylan comments. Matthews is either going to pick the most romcom movie stereotype he can, or he's going to drag Mitch to an artsy indie movie theatre to see some kind of foreign film with subtitles. Dylan's definitely pulling for the latter, and he's wondering if it would be crossing fake boyfriend lines to actually text him and suggest it.

"The things I do for fake love," Mitch says, grinning. "I'm even gonna spring for snacks."

"Big spender," Dylan says dryly. "We haven't planned anything yet. I guess we'll figure it out as we go. It'll probably be pretty low-key, honestly."

"Boo," Mitch says, actually holding his phone farther away so Dylan can get the full view of him giving an emphatic thumbs-down. "What's the fun if there's no drama?"

"As if you're not gonna have enough drama for the both of us?" Dylan asks, snorting. "We'll figure it out, I guess. There's a carnival in town next week. Maybe I'll go win him a big ass teddy bear."

Mitch cackles. "I love you, but babe, there is no way you're going to win a carnival game well enough to get more than a very small teddy bear."

"Hey," Dylan protests, but he can't even fake being actually indignant about it. They'd gone to a fair earlier in the summer, and Mitch had taken a lot of glee in how honest to god _bad_ Dylan is at all the games. Still, though, he's going to at least fake some pride here. "I could win. Maybe these carnival people are better at letting people win things."

"Or maybe they'll actually let you buy a big ass teddy bear from them instead of having to win it," Mitch says, still snickering. "Even though the bribery angle didn't work last time."

"Maybe they will," Dylan says, and he can't help the way he grins when Mitch just keeps laughing. He's always happier when he gets to spend time with Mitch, even if it's only over Skype. "Hey, I just thought of something I forgot to tell you before."

"Yeah?" Mitch asks, breathing deeply to get himself to stop laughing. "What is it?"

"I love you," Dylan says, simple and earnest.

Mitch's expression turns sweet as he leans back in. "I love you, too," he says. "Thanks for humouring me on this. I know it's silly."

"It is," Dylan says. "But it could be a lot of fun, and plus, you get to cuddle Matthews. I bet he makes a good pillow."

"I plan to find out," Mitch says. "I'll let you know."

"You'd better," Dylan replies, smiling. "I want all the fake boyfriend details."

"Right back at you," Mitch says, and the expression on Mitch's face right now, the excited happiness just from talking about this ridiculous thing they're doing… yeah, Dylan's pretty sure he'd do anything to make Mitch this happy all the time.

-0-

Dylan realises pretty quickly that his assumption that fake dating Chych would be low-key was, in fact, a massive miscalculation on his part.

"Dylan!" he calls when Dylan walks into the locker room. He's nowhere near late, which makes him immediately raise an eyebrow. Chych is more often cutting it pretty close to the wire than he is early, but he's is already in workout gear, smiling easily at Dylan.

"Hey," Dylan says a little warily. "What's up?"

Chych laughs, and when Dylan glances around, yeah, they're gathering a little attention. "What, I can't say hi to my favourite teammate now?"

"Dude," Fisch says, throwing a ball of tape across the locker room. "Flirt quieter or something, man."

"Why?" Chych asks, raising an eyebrow.

Fisch snorts. "Because your man crush is a little over the top all of a sudden?"

Chych smiles, slow and wide, and Dylan turns to put his shit in his stall. Whatever's about to happen is probably going to draw a reaction, and this way he won't make it worse with however his face chooses to respond. "Man crush," he echoes. "That's what we're going with, really? Man crush?"

"Uh," Fisch says, and he sounds a little thrown. "Is there… something else I should be calling it?"

"I feel like it's homophobic to be telling me that flirting with my boyfriend in public is showing a 'man crush,'" Chych says, all fake-thoughtful, and Dylan hears at least three people drop shit. "Babe? I'm new to this whole bisexual thing. Is that homophobic?"

Dylan takes a deep breath, rolls his eyes, and turns to smile at Chych. "First rule of un-straight dating: every single minor inconvenience is now homophobic," he says as seriously as he can manage. "This definitely counts."

Chych's face lights up. "Wait, everything?" he says gleefully. He points at Fisch. "Bro. Your music choices? _Homophobia._ "

Dylan has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from losing it as he glances around. Demers is sitting in his stall, hands frozen in the air mid-tape job as he glances from Dylan to Chych and back again at warp speed; Dvo is staring at Dylan with his mouth hanging open. Kells is staring at Chych, expression half shocked and half something else entirely, and that's definitely something to file away for later.

It's Hammer who sighs and stands up smacking Chych lightly on the shin with his stick. "Congratulations," he says, smiling briefly. "But also, we will fine you just like we fine everyone else. I'm telling you now so you can't call that homophobic."

"But," Chych says, pouting up at Hammer.

"No, sorry, that's the rules," Dylan says, shrugging a little. "I mean, you can still super call it whatever you want, but fines are sacred."

"Babe," Chych says, turning and putting his hand over his heart. "Fines aren't more sacred than _us_."

"I don't like you enough to pay your fines for you," Dylan says sweetly, turning back to start getting changed as the rest of the guys in the locker room start laughing.

Practice is fine; it's not that Dylan doesn't get anything out of it, but it's more muscle memory at this point than it is anything else, and it doesn't take all of his brainpower to skate through drills and slide passes over the ice. It does mean that he has time to observe, though, to wait his turn for the pass and shoot drill that they're running and watch as Chych sits in the stands, watching intently.

Chych was a good choice, Dylan decides. Even if he's apparently taking this to a level that Dylan wasn't anticipating, it'll be fun, and it'll also give him another excuse to hang out with the team during his recovery. Not that the team isn't inviting him out or anything, but now he's Dylan's apparent plus-one, so he's going to be even more welcome.

"Hey," Dvo says, nudging Dylan in the back. "Earth to Stromer. You're up next, so stop making heart eyes or whatever and get ready to skate."

"Thanks, man," Dylan says, glancing over to see Rants giving him a raised eyebrow. Time to actually focus, probably.

He pads over to Chych in the locker room after practice is over. "Hey," he says, trying to make his voice a little warmer, a little more… boyfriend-y, or something. "Lunch?"

"Of course," Chych says, smiling up at him. "You shower, I'll figure out a place that won't be full of hockey players?"

"You think that now," Perls calls, and Dylan laughs as he heads for the shower.

Dylan drives them to the place Chych finds on Yelp, half for the show of it and half because Chych is still recovering from hip surgery, and he admitted to Dylan that he's been bumming rides in with Kells. "Until I'm super sure I'm good," he explains. "Like, I'm probably totally fine to drive, but…"

"Yeah, wait on that," Dylan says as he changes lanes. "I have a sort-of related question, though. Are you actually bi, or was that just you saying shit to get the guys to buy in?"

Chych hums, and when Dylan glances over, he's frowning a little. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm actually bi," he says. "I almost dated a teammate in juniors, I think. It's not like you talk shit out when you're sixteen and scared about it, y'know?"

"I know," Dylan says, smiling faintly. "Thanks for telling me."

"Thanks for just rolling with the most ridiculous coming-out I could imagine," Chych returns, laughing. "We didn't really talk details, but I figured being public was kind of the point. No use fake dating someone if you don't tell anyone about it, right?"

"Right," Dylan says. "Speaking of telling people, what did you tell Kells?"

"Kells?" Chych asks, frowning a little. "Nothing. I mean, he was in the locker room, but that's it. Why did he say something?"

"No, just," Dylan says as he gets in the exit lane. "Something about how he looked when you said I was your boyfriend, I guess."

"Did he looks like he was gonna be shitty about it?" Chych asks, and his voice is a little quieter, a little less exuberant.

"No, no," Dylan says hastily. "Nothing at all like that. More like he thought he missed a shot he didn't even realise he could take, maybe."

"Oh," Chych says. There's a beat and then he says " _Oh_ " again, like he just figured out what Dylan meant. "Wait, really?"

"Don't fake dump me to get with Kells," Dylan says quickly. "You'll look super shitty and like you can't stay with someone for more than five seconds. You were literally talking about getting dumped by that girl yesterday."

"Yeah, no, no worries," Chych says. "Wow. Really?"

Dylan laughs a little as he pulls into a parking spot on the street in front of the restaurant. "Keep your eyes open," he advises. "And start fine-tuning your gaydar."

"Gaydar," Chych echoes. "Man, there's a whole new world of terms I need to learn how to use, huh?"

"There sure are, man," Dylan says as he turns the car off. "Let's go eat."

-0-

Taking Chych to the carnival is _hilarious_.

"No, wait," he says, narrowing his eyes at the bottles in the middle of the ring toss game stall. "I've got this now. I'm gonna win you a bear."

"It's fine, you don't have to," Dylan says, barely biting back a grin. Mitch can say whatever he wants about Dylan's inability to win at carnival games, but Chych is _awful_ at them. "I don't need a bear, I promise."

"You definitely do," Chych replies. He hasn't looked away from the game, like he's sizing it up for a fight or something. "I can do this. I'm _gonna_ do this."

"I don't think that's how it works," Dylan says mildly. He's got an oversized cup half full of iced tea, and he leans in to take a sip from it mostly so keep himself from laughing. "Maybe I should try to—"

"No, no, I've got this," Chych says, nodding sharply. He slaps another five-dollar bill down onto the counter, and Dylan and the woman running the stall exchange an amused look. "Okay. All three rings on the bottles, and I can pick a bear."

"How about this," the woman says, putting the money into her apron pocket. "If you can throw all three rings into the display without knocking any bottles over, he can pick a bear. Even one of the big ones."

"One of the big ones," Chych repeats, clearly excited. "Okay, Dyls, pick whichever one you want. I totally have this."

Dylan glances at the woman, who gives him a thumbs-up. Given how things have been going so far, there's honestly only a fifty-fifty chance that Chych isn't going to knick a bunch of bottles over, but Dylan decides to believe in him this time. Good fake boyfriend vibes or something. 

"I want the big blue one," he says, pointing at the tackiest bear in the collection. It's got a white bowtie, and the longer Dylan stares at it, the more he wants to give it to Mitch. It might be a little weird to give his actual boyfriend a gift from his fake boyfriend, but Dylan's also pretty sure Mitch will think it's hilarious.

"Okay, the big blue boy, here we go," Chych says. "Just you watch. I'm gonna do it."

"You've given this poor woman, like, a hundred bucks," Dylan says dryly. "At this point, it's just embarrassing if you don't."

"No, it's sweet," the woman says, smiling at them. "He really wants to win it for you, hon. I can see how much it means to him."

Dylan coughs and takes another sip of his iced tea. At least the woman seems to have no idea who they are. Small blessings, or something.

"Okay," Chych says again, under his breath like he's psyching himself up for it. "Just don't knock the bottles over. I'm all over this."

Dylan watches as he carefully tosses the first ring. It's a nice light toss, and Dylan watches in awe as it actually lands perfectly around a bottle near the middle, ring catching around the neck and sliding neatly down.

"Hell yes," Chych crows, and then he grabs both of the other rings and tosses them in quick succession. The second one finds a bottle easily, too, but the third one hits the neck of a bottle, then skips along dangerously towards the edge of the display, making bottles wobble as it goes.

"Come on, come on," Chych mutters, reaching out and grabbing Dylan's hand. "Don't fall."

Dylan squeezes back mostly on autopilot; it's ridiculous, how tense he feels, but Chych squeezes right back as the ring slowly rolls to a stop, wedged between the last two bottles in the display. Dylan holds his breath and counts to three, but the bottles don't topple over.

"Yes," Chych shouts, dropping Dylan's hand to punch at the air. Dylan's seen him do less ridiculous cellies after actually scoring, he's pretty sure. "I did it! I got it!"

The woman behind the display laughs. "You did," she agrees. "The big blue one, right?"

"Yes, please," Dylan says. He grins as Chych whoops. "And, uh. Sorry about him."

"Don't worry about it," the woman says as she hands the bear over. "Here you go, hon."

It's ridiculously large; Dylan doesn't really have a plan for how he's going to get it back to Toronto, but Mitch definitely needs it. It's too big to stick under his arm, so Dylan throws it over his back, wrapping its arms around his neck and wearing it like a cape. He grins when Chych finally stops celebrating. "What do you think?"

"You're a fashion icon," Chych declares. "Hang on, I need to Snap this."

"You definitely don't," Dylan says, but he's laughing as Chych pulls out his phone and takes a photo. "Who are you even sending it to?"

"Matts," Chych says, looking at his phone and tapping something out. "We've got… let's call it a friendly competition going on."

Dylan blinks at him. "Wait, you and Matts are _competing_?"

Chych nods and slips his phone back into his pocket. "I mean, he knows and I know, and that's pretty much it," he says, shrugging and starting to walk away from the booth. "Gotta get my kicks where I can, am I right?"

"No?" Dylan says. "Definitely no. I know this is a weird concept, man, but not everything has to be a competition."

Chych gives him an unimpressed look. "What fun is that?"

Dylan can only stare. "I'd ask if you were shitting me, but I've met you and I've met Matts," he says. "I already know you're dead serious."

"Yup," Chych says cheerly. "But hey, I won you an awesome bear, so that puts me ahead of Matts. All he can think of are over-the-top fake romantic dinner ideas, so I get more points for originality."

It's true; Mitch has told him about ridiculously fancy dinners with food portions too small to count, foods that he couldn't identify and didn't really want to, and waiters with wine lists so extensive that Mitch had barely managed to not start laughing as the guy droned on. Dylan knows that Mitch thinks it's hilarious, mostly because they generally end up grabbing pizza afterwards to make up for the lack of carbs in whatever pea foam is made of.

"Whatever," Dylan says instead of thanking Chych for not making him eat hipster food. "I'm giving the bear to Mitch, so see if that gets you bonus points or something. You won it for me, but Mitch gets it, so it sounds like that should be worth double."

Chych's eyes light up. "Totally," he says with a grin. "Excellent idea. I'm definitely using it."

"You'd better," Dylan says. Just because it doesn't have to be a competition doesn't mean that it isn't one anyway, and Dylan's definitely going to help his fake boyfriend win. He's got _pride_ , after all.

-0-

"So I think I might have to fake-dump Matts," Mitch says.

Dylan frowns. "Why? Is he being a bad fake boyfriend? As your real boyfriend, tell him I'm gonna kick his ass if he doesn't treat you right. But, like, in a fake way."

Mitch snorts. "Romantic," he says dryly. "That's not it, though. There's a sad pining situation going on here, and I'm pretty sure if I play it the right way, I can give it a happy ending." He waggles his eyebrows as he finishes his sentence, and then starts laughing at his own joke.

"You're the worst," Dylan complains, but he can't help his smile. "How can you fake-dumping Matts give anyone a _happy ending_?"

"Well, first, I love you because you totally just play into whatever bad jokes I throw at you," Mitch says, smiling a little more softly. "But also, Matts and Mo are into each other to an insane degree, and I didn't realise it was mutual until I got the most broken-hearted shovel talk I've ever heard from Mo after practice. I'm thinking if I do some sort of dramatic breakup thing and leave Mo there thinking he has to pick up the pieces…"

"It could work," Dylan says thoughtfully. He shifts on his bed, and his laptop wobbles a little. "Are you going to warn Matts beforehand or just see how it goes?"

"I think I have to warn him," Mitch says, making a face. "Like, I talked him into doing this whole thing, so fake-dumping him when we're not actually all that far into things would be weird unless I warn him about it first."

"Good call," Dylan agrees. "Chych is gonna be thrilled. I'm pretty sure him fake-dating me longer than you and Matts were fake-dating means he wins whatever they have riding on this dumb competition of theirs."

Mitch starts laughing. "Tell him I'll make Matts forfeit if he can win me another bear," he says. The original bear is sitting in the corner of Dylan's room; he still doesn't have a clue as to how he's getting it to Toronto, but Mitch named it Frank and tells Dylan to hug it goodnight before they hang up every day, so Dylan's counting it as a success.

"I wouldn't count on it," Dylan says, laughing. "We barely managed to get this one. I think if he had to come up with another one, he'd probably just go on eBay or something."

"Slightly used bear, free to a good home," Mitch says, grinning. "'Don't mind the weird melted fur on the face; we left him too close to the heater.'"

"Don't let Frank hear you say that," Dylan says, widening his eyes dramatically. "He's delicate."

"He'd better not be, living with hockey players," Mitch says with a laugh. "I don't want to offend his delicate sensibilities or whatever, but it kind of always smells like hockey player here, so…"

Dylan rolls his eyes. "I think he'll survive it. He's a tough cookie."

"A tough cookie," Mitch repeats, delighted. "So he's good with the five-second rule, then?"

"He's an expert," Dylan confirms with a grin. He's so glad he's with Mitch for so many reasons, but honestly, their ability to just play off of each other and have fun is a big part of it. "Don't try for six seconds, though. He'll call you out on that."

"A rules stickler," Mitch says, sighing loudly. "With you for a father, I'm not surprised."

"Well, with _you_ for a father, I'm sure he'll learn the other side of things pretty quickly," Dylan replies.

"I hope so," Mitch says, grinning at Dylan. "Between the two of us, I'm sure he'll turn out okay."

"Better than okay," Dylan says, and it sounds kind of like a promise, like he's saying more than the words coming out of his mouth. Maybe he is, honestly. "We'd be amazing parents."

"I mean, obviously," Mitch says, and his voice is a little softer now, a little more gentle. "Frank is gonna be the most well-behaved giant stuffed bear at daycare. All the other kids will love him, and we'll get compliments all the time on how he never hits or bites the other kids."

"I might be a little worried if we didn't get those comments, honestly," Dylan says. "Since he's a giant stuffed bear, like you said. He doesn't have teeth."

"Or a way to move his mouth even if he did," Mitch says, nodding. "Maybe I stretched the metaphor a little too far."

"Maybe," Dylan agrees. "I forgive you."

"Oh, good," Mitch says brightly. "So, hey, do you want to get a dog next summer?"

Dylan coughs. "A dog?"

"Yeah," Mitch says, unrepentant. "Since we can't really test our parenting skills on Frank, I mean. He won't tell us if we forget to feed him, but dogs have a built-in alarm system for that."

"They do, yeah," Dylan says, smile stretching slowly across his face. "We can talk about it, okay? There are a lot of logistics involved in having a dog."

Mitch laughs. "Logistics," he says. "Good thing I'm dating this guy who's good at making plans and stuff."

"Matthews is good at planning?" Dylan replies. "Better ask him quick, then, before you fake break up with him. He'll probably be less likely to help you after that."

"Not if it gets him and Mo together," Mitch says smugly. "He'll be so happy he'll beg me to let him help me plan shit."

"Get him to plan how we're gonna get Frank to you," Dylan suggests. "Because right now my only idea is to buy an extra seat on the plane and buckle him in next to me, and I don't think the flight attendants would be too thrilled with that."

Mitch starts laughing in earnest. "I'll see what I can do," he promises.

"Let me know how it goes," Dylan says. There's probably nothing he can do about the fond expression that he can feel taking over his face, but honestly, he doesn't even want to try.

-0-

It's the start of November when Chych approaches Dylan after practice, an unusually serious look on his face. "Hey, uh," he says, glancing away quickly before looking back at Dylan. "Can we talk?"

"Yeah, of course," Dylan says, frowning slightly. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's just," Chych says. There's some colour high in his cheeks, and Dylan frowns harder. "I'll buy you lunch?"

A few of the guys are still hanging around, and both Rants and Kells are watching them with interest. Kells, at least, has the grace to look away when he catches Dylan watching, but Rants just shrugs and smiles. Goalies, honestly.

"Sure thing, babe," Dylan says, reaching out to squeeze Chych's hand.

Chych just gives him a weak smile, and Dylan's stomach swoops as he follows Chych out of the room.

"So, uh," Dylan says when they're seated at the deli where this whole thing started. "What's up, man? I'm kind of worried here."

"I need to break up with you," Chych blurts out. "I'm so sorry, Dyls, I am, but—"

"Hey, whoa, chill," Dylan says, pushing Chych's water glass closer to him. "Take a sip and a breath, okay? Whatever's going on, I promise it's fine."

Chych looks completely miserable, which would be funny if he didn't look so heartfelt about it. "I, uh," he starts quietly. "I cheated on you, kind of."

Dylan closes his eyes and takes a deep breath "Chych, you couldn't have cheated on me," he says, keeping his eyes firmly closed. "Because we weren't really dating, remember? So whatever happened, it wasn't cheating. Or, at least, it wasn't cheating on _me_. I can't speak for whoever the other person was."

Chych lets out a breath like a gust of wind. "Nothing even happened," he says. "But, like, I was flirting? And I wanted it to happen, and then I wasn't even the one to stop it, because I didn't even _think_ about you in that moment—"

"You were hitting on Kells, and he told you to knock it off," Dylan translates, opening his eyes. "Buddy. Friend. _Jakob_. Would you please take a chill pill and look at me?"

Chych still looks miserable, but he meets Dylan's eyes. "I said I'd fake-date you, and I—"

"Nope," Dylan interrupts. "I'm for real dumping you. We're no longer in a fake relationship. Stop feeling bad about this, man, holy shit."

"But," Chych starts.

Dylan sighs. "Look," he says. "If you want to tell everyone I dumped you and Kells was there to pick up the pieces, I get it. That's kind of what got Matts and Mo together, remember?"

"That's because your real boyfriend is a hopeless romantic," Chych replies, but he's starting to look less pinched around the eyes. "I don't want to lie to Kells, and he thinks I'm a shitty person. He told me I had to tell you what happened, so he probably thinks that's what I'm doing now."

"I mean, it is what you're doing now," Dylan points out. "Except, like, I'm not upset about it, which he probably thinks is gonna happen. Dude, we were always gonna break up. This was to keep people from trying to set me up with someone else, not to have us get, like, fake-married while I for-real married Mitch in secret or whatever."

"I know," Chych mutters. He takes a deep breath in, and when he lets it back out, his shoulders finally fall down from around his ears. "But, like, we didn't talk about it or anything and I knew I wanted to maybe take my shot with Kells, and when my chance popped up..."

"You had to take your shot," Dylan fills in. "Except you forgot that he thought we were actually dating."

Chych sighs, and it's so dramatic that it gives Mitch at his mopiest a run for his money. "And now he thinks I'm a cheater," he says gloomily. "So there goes that, I guess."

"I know this fake relationship was founded on how much you love being a dramatic asshole, but I swear to god," Dylan says, sighing. "We'll talk to him, you and me together, and it'll be fine."

"I don't know," Chych says, but now he sounds hopeful. "Do you think it might actually help?"

"Weirder things have happened," Dylan says, shrugging a little. He gestures between himself and Chych. "No offense or whatever."

Chych just laughs. "This whole thing is _so_ weird," he agrees. "It's been kind of fun, though. Also, no givesie-backsies on that giant bear."

"His name is Frank, and he's my child," Dylan replies, putting a hand over his heart. "I'd never give him up."

"Unless it was to Marns," Chych teases.

Dylan nods as seriously as he can manage. "His other dad loves him, too."

Chych just stares for a moment before shaking his head. "You guys deserve each other, I think," he finally says.

Dylan smiles, and he knows it's wide and probably kind of goofy. "Yeah."

"And hey, now I have a cool new date idea," Chych says. "Maybe I can take Kells to the carnival. He might like that."

"Don't try to win him a bear," Dylan advises, trying to hide a laugh. "Just… don't. Or at least pick a different game to try. You suck at the ring toss, buddy."

"Hey," Chych protests, but he shrugs after a minute. "I mean, I guess I kinda do. It's whatever."

"See if there's some kind of hockey game," Dylan suggests.

Chych brightens. "Date competition," he says.

"Wait, no," Dylan says, laughing again. "What is it with you and the competition, man?"

"I'm just good at it," Chych says smugly. "The best, even."

And sure, Dylan's fake relationship to hide his real relationship thing might have gone down in flames, but he's laughing enough at Chych that at least right now, it all seems worth it.

-0-

"I don't know if it's too soon for me to fake ask someone else out yet," Mitch muses when Dylan finishes telling him about the end of his own fake relationship.

Dylan shrugs, adjusting his phone so he's a little less backlit. "Got someone in mind?"

"Kappy already told me he has no interest," Mitch says, sighing a little. "I was thinking maybe Brownie."

"He was an Otter, which means he might be crazy enough to go for it," Dylan replies. "Or you could ask Derms."

"Oooh, a defenceman," Mitch replies. "Didn't you call that scandalous when I told you about Matts and Mo?"

Dylan laughs. "I mean, we could pick someone while we're visiting," he suggests. "Since it's soon."

Mitch's smile is almost blinding. "I still kind of can't believe we managed to sneak a day together," he says, laughing. "It seems a little insane if I think about it for too long."

"Or at all," Dylan says, but he's smiling, too. "I mean, I'm flying to Toronto on a red eye after a game, and we're only going to get to spend like 30 hours together before I fly back here."

"American Thanksgiving is a fake holiday, but I'm grateful that you're willing to do that for me," Mitch says, leaning towards his camera like it's going to let him touch Dylan now instead of having to wait a week and a half. "For us, I mean."

"I love you, even when it's not the easiest thing," Dylan says softly. "I'm glad I could get the time cleared so I didn't have to worry about missing a practice. I'm hoping that three-day breaks like this make it possible for us to do this a few times a season, but we'll see, I guess."

"We'll see," Mitch says, and it sounds like a promise. "So, not to switch tracks or anything, but are you going to ask someone else, or are you letting it slide for a little while?"

Dylan hums. "I think I'm gonna let it be for a little while."

Mitch sings a few bars of The Beatles, grinning when Dylan rolls his eyes. "Nobody else catching your eye?" he asks when the music bug has passed.

"I mean," Dylan says, pulling a face. "Crouser is out, Chych and Kells are out, and I kind of let the rest of the guys assume I was a giant dick to Chych so I didn't blow my cover, so I'm kind of out of teammates I can ask unless I want to make things weird."

"I vote for making things weird," Mitch says, actually raising his hand. "Only kind of, though. I actually vote for you doing whatever makes you the most comfortable. You already did this whole big dumb thing for me, and if you're done with the whole thing now, then I can be done with it, too."

"It wasn't bad," Dylan says. "Like, it wasn't bad at all, honestly. And we did get Frank out of it."

"We did," Mitch agrees. "But I don't know if Frank is ready for a sibling."

"We've been talking about dog names for literally three weeks," Dylan says dryly. "At least whatever theoretical sibling he might get from me fake dating another teammate probably wouldn't drool on him or try to gnaw his arms off."

"Unless whoever it was won you a goldfish," Mitch says. "Except that would probably be more of a risk of his new sibling getting knocked off of a shelf or something than anything else."

"No goldfish," Dylan says. He remembers how bad Matty's smelled when they were growing up. "Goldfish crackers, though, those I'd take."

"Hell yes," Mitch says immediately. "The pizza ones—"

"Get out of here with your gross pizza crackers," Dylan cuts in. It's an argument they could have in their sleep at this point, probably: Dylan thinks the pizza goldfish are a crime against humanity, and Mitch thinks the parmesan ones are too boring for anyone over the age of five. It's easy, well-worn conversation by now, and Dylan's glad to settle into it for a moment.

"No, you," Mitch says, already laughing. "Boring white boy crackers."

"They're delicious," Dylan says. "Not everything has to be Xtreme Flavoured."

"That's Combos," Mitch says, so much fake offense in his voice that Dylan has to bite his lip to keep from laughing outright. "Get your shitty juniors bus trip snacks straight, Dylan, god."

"I've never been straight a day in my life, so why should I start now?" Dylan asks innocently, and they both last about three seconds before laughing at each other, _with_ each other, even though they're more than half a country apart.

"Hey," Mitch says, smiling at him. "I'm looking forward to seeing you soon."

"Me too," Dylan says instantly, quieting down. "Eleven days until I'm on a flight to you."

"Twelve days until I see you at the airport," Mitch says. "Time zones and red-eye flights are a terrible combination."

Dylan snorts. "You're telling me."

"I promise to let you nap," Mitch says, grinning. "Eventually."

"I'm looking forward to it," Dylan says. It's the absolute truth, even if he can't stop smiling as he says it, even if Mitch is waggling his eyebrows and laughing. It's one hundred percent true.

-0-

The flight is one of the worst ones that Dylan has ever been on: the turbulence is actually unbelievable, there's a crying baby who refuses to be calmed somewhere in the cabin, and they run out of regular Coke before the flight lands, but Dylan is still smiling when they touch down in Toronto. Mitch is here somewhere, waiting for him with the car warmed up and a coffee in the centre console. Dylan is tired and crabby, sure, but he can't actually be upset, not when he's so close to Mitch for the first time since the summer.

 _landed,_ he texts as soon as the seatbelt light ticks off. _i don't need to go to baggage claim. where are you?_

 _circling,_ Mitch send back almost immediately. _let me know when you clear customs and i'll make sure i'm heading towards the terminal._

 _will do,_ Dylan replies, sending two red heart emojis.

It's easy to get his carry-on bag down from the bin, and he grabs the ones tucked up there for the two elderly ladies in the row in front of him, too. They thank him profusely, and Dylan doesn't want to tell him that it's no big deal because it means they'll get out of his way faster, so he just smiles and tells them that it was no problem at all, no ma'am, not at all. They seem charmed enough, so Dylan follows them up the aisle and off the plane, and then he's doing his best to not run through Pearson like he's on fire.

Customs is a breeze when you only have one small carry-on and nothing at all to declare, so in no time, Dylan's texting Mitch and heading for the exits. He bursts out of the doors like he'll run out of air if he doesn't see Mitch soon, and there aren't many cars sitting by the entrance, not yet, but Dylan scans each one carefully. Mitch isn't at the front, isn't the next one, either, but—

Mitch's SUV cuts out of his parking place, pulls around four cars, and stops in front of Dylan. The window is rolling down as Dylan walks towards him, carry-on in hand, and Mitch is beaming at him full force and in person, and it's probably the best morning of Dylan's life. Definitely the best of his month, without question.

"Hi," Mitch says as Dylan opens the back door to throw his bag in.

"Hi," Dylan replies, grinning at Mitch. It's like they're frozen there for a minute, Dylan leaning into the back seat over his carry-on, Mitch twisted around so he can see Dylan, both of them with huge smiles on their faces. Dylan wants to get in the car, and he will any second now, but it seems too hard to stop looking at Mitch for the few seconds it's going to take for him to get in the front seat.

A car honks from behind them, and thankfully it breaks the spell. Dylan laughs and shakes his head, and then he shuts the back door so he can get in the front. "I was thinking something super sappy," he says as he buckles his seatbelt.

Mitch reaches over and grabs Dylan's hand, squeezing it hard for a few seconds before letting it go. There's no way they're going to do anything more demonstrative than that, not here and not now; it might be the crack of dawn in Toronto, but it's still _Toronto_. Caution has served them pretty well so far, and Dylan knows that they'll be sticking to it for a while.

"Tell me about the sappy thing," Mitch says as he starts moving them towards the exit. "And about your flight. Tell me all the things."

"The flight was a flight," Dylan says, shrugging a little. "And the sappy thing is that I didn't want to stop looking at you for as long as it would take me to close the door and get in the car."

Mitch slows down as they hit traffic at the airport exit, and he turns to flash Dylan a smile. "That's adorable."

" _You're_ adorable," Dylan shoots back. "It's not like I forget or anything, but wow, does Skype not do you justice."

"I'd say flattery isn't going to get you anywhere, but we both know me too well for that," Mitch says as they start moving again. "So what are our plans for today?"

"A nap," Dylan says, grimacing a little. "I don't want to waste any of our time together, but I feel like I'm gonna be an asshole if I don't get at least a little sleep."

"We can nap," Mitch says. "It's not like napping with you is a waste of time. You're the best body pillow in the entire world."

"You're a space heater backpack," Dylan replies, grinning when Mitch laughs. "Cool. Nap, and then we'll see what we want to do after that?"

Mitch waggles his eyebrows. "I mean, I have some ideas."

"Oh, some _ideas_ , huh," Dylan echoes. "Do they involve you and me not leaving your condo? Because I might be very, very interested in those kinds of ideas."

"I am very not sharing you with the public," Mitch says "Or my teammates. Maybe my teammates are an even bigger no, actually. I only have you for a day."

"Almost a day and a half," Dylan corrects. "Don't shortchange our time, here."

"Almost a day and a half," Mitch repeats. "We'll order in tonight, and we'll spend the rest of the day doing whatever we feel like doing."

"Sounds perfect," Dylan says, and it's not an exaggeration at all.

-0-

The nap is good, and waking up from the nap is even better. True to form, Mitch is wrapped around him and giving off heat like it's his job, and there's nowhere in the world Dylan would rather be right now than exactly where he is. Mitch is still asleep, but when Dylan turns his head to the side to check the time, he sighs and nudges Mitch gently. "Hey," he says quietly. "Babe. We should get up so we don't fuck up our sleep schedules too much."

"No," Mitch whines. He somehow wraps himself around Dylan even more tightly. "I'm comfy, and if I don't let you out of this bed, then you can't leave."

"Your cunning plan has you also never leaving this bed," Dylan points out. "And I love you, but that's gonna get gross pretty fast."

Mitch sighs loudly. "Fine," he grumbles, peeling himself off of Dylan. "Can we just move to the sofa and make out, or do you want to do something else?"

"That sounds good to me," Dylan says. "Not that I don't want to maybe do something else later, but we can start on the sofa and see where that leads."

"Probably back to the bed," Mitch says, snorting as he sits up. "We could save time and just stay where we are."

"I vote sofa," Dylan says, rolling his eyes. "C'mon."

It doesn't actually take much convincing once Dylan gets out of the bed; Mitch follows him down the hallway, and from there it's easy to tug him down onto the sofa and right into the perfect position for sofa cuddles.

Mitch sighs as he settles, kneeling with his legs on either side of Dylan's thighs. "This is nice," he says, resting his arms on Dylan's shoulders.

"Could be nicer," Dylan says, tilting his face up.

"Well, with an invitation like that," Mitch murmurs, and then he leans in and presses their mouths together, quick and soft and light.

"Tease," Dylan says when Mitch pulls back a fraction of an inch, just far enough so they're not kissing anymore.

Mitch laughs softly, a barely-there exhalation that Dylan feels more than anything else. "Have it your way."

Dylan absolutely does. It's an easy thing to lose himself in, to decide that time isn't important and that kissing Mitch is more vital than things like food or air or anything else. It's not like they actually have a timetable in place for the day or anything, so Dylan doesn't rush it; he probably wouldn't anyway, because this is one of his favourite things with his absolute favourite person.

Making out with Mitch is about an even split between the PG kind and the not safe for work kind. It's fun to follow where he leads, so when Mitch starts kissing him harder, moves so he can run his thumb slowly up and down Dylan's neck, Dylan spreads his legs a little and lets his hands drop to Mitch's ass. Everything gets a little more heated, a little more on edge, and Dylan is definitely going to blame that for the fact that he doesn't realise they have an audience until there's a very loud cough from the other side of the room.

Mitch tries to pull back and spin around so quickly that he over-balances, and Dylan's just glad that he actually has a pretty good hold on Mitch, because otherwise he probably would have tumbled to the floor. It would be funny, except John Tavares and Zach Hyman are standing in Mitch's living room, and neither one of them appears to be leaving any time soon.

"What the fuck," Dylan says. It seems appropriate.

"You," Tavares says, pointing at Dylan, "are in Arizona."

"Not currently," Dylan says, arching an eyebrow. "Have you had coffee today? Ryan's told me the stories about you and the coffee."

"He has absolutely had coffee," Hyman says. "For the record, I would have voted for Arizona too, if anyone was asking me where you probably were right now."

"Not that it's not nice to see you guys, since you're my lineys and everything, but I'm going back to Dylan's original question: what the fuck?" Mitch interjects. "Why are you here? _How_ are you here?"

"You weren't answering your texts about liney breakfast, so Auston loaned me his emergency key," Hyman says, shrugging. "We, uh. You always answer your texts, so…"

Mitch sighs and drops his head to Dylan's shoulder. "I'm sorry about them," he mutters. "I'll get them to keep their mouths shut somehow."

"Wait, but," Dylan says, keeping his voice low. He's feeling brave out of nowhere, but it's not like they can put the cat back in the bag at this point, even if Dylan's pretty sure these are two of Mitch's more trustworthy teammates. "We could… we could tell people."

Mitch pulls back a little and looks down at Dylan. "Really? Don't do it just because you think you have to, babe."

"Okay, yeah, we're interrupting," Tavares says.

Dylan levels him with a glare. "Seriously? You're just figuring that out now?"

Tavares gestures vaguely. "You don't want to do liney breakfast, so we'll just…"

"Go," Hyman supplies. "Since this is… going on."

"Oh my god," Mitch says, closing his eyes. "It just keeps happening."

Dylan snorts. "Yeah, so," he says, looking at Tavares because he knows exactly how allergic he is to feelings, so at least hearing about Dylan's will probably make him half as uncomfortable as Dylan's feeling right now. "Mitch and I have been dating for a while. I flew up to visit since I have a few days off. You're interrupting some quality time here, and I like you just fine as a person, but I have to tell you, I might want to revise my opinion if you keep barging in."

"Uh," Hyman says, glancing from Dylan to Mitch and back again. "How long is 'a while?'"

"The Auston thing wasn't real," Mitch says. "It was definitely my idea, and Dylan is a good person who doesn't make fun of my plans as much as he probably should. There was no cheating at any point, so please breathe, Zachary."

"Oh, thank god," Hyman mutters, and Dylan coughs to hide a laugh. "So this is…"

"Something we weren't going to share with people just yet," Mitch says, his tone remarkably even. "Except here you guys are, so…"

"We won't say anything," Tavares and Hyman say in perfect, creepy unison. They glance at each other, and Tavares shrugs before going on. "None of our business. None of _anybody's_ business except yours, so you can take your time and only tell—"

"Yes, Mr. YCP, thanks," Dylan cuts in. "We appreciate it, but the reasons we had for keeping it a secret are… pretty much gone at this point."

"You're playing," Mitch says, his smile appearing out of nowhere, softening his features and making Dylan really, really want to get back to the kissing part of the program.

"I'm playing," Dylan confirms. "And maybe they're not exactly the minutes I want, but I've definitely proven that I can stick on an NHL team. I don't want to, like, put it on Insta, but people can know. It's not going to keep me from playing."

"If someone in Arizona made you feel like you couldn't play," Tavares starts, and that is absolutely and completely the John Tavares Captain Voice right there.

Dylan holds up a hand. "Put the concerned face away, please, you'll scare people. Nobody has said anything, and everyone knows I'm into guys. It was the long-distance, possibly a distraction thing, that's all. The team is fine, the coaches are fine, the management is fine." His frustrations with all of them are entirely hockey-related, and that's just part of the job.

"We both pretended to date other people so you guys would stop trying to set us up with your friends," Mitch adds. "And by 'you guys' I mostly mean Naz and Gards."

"It's always the straight guys," Hyman says, and honestly, Dylan likes him a little more for the exasperated tone of voice. "Wow. I'm sorry you guys felt like you had to do something like that."

"I'll talk to them," Tavares adds, tone dark.

"I mean, it was fun," Dylan says, shrugging. "And we got Frank out of it, so it wasn't all bad."

"And it got Auston and Mo together, so we're calling it a win," Mitch adds.

"What's a Frank?" Tavares asks kind of cautiously.

"Our baby," Mitch says, and Dylan's not sure if it's the deadpan tone of voice or the way he's meeting Tavares' eyes without flinching, but Tavares just takes it at face value, nodding with a slightly concerned frown on his face.

"So, to recap: we're dating, I'm super not interested in blind dates, and you should probably leave now," Mitch says when nobody says anything else. "Since my boyfriend is here for less than a day and a half total, and I for sure love him more than I like both of you combined."

"Yeah, you know what," Tavares says, taking a step backwards. "We'll just… get out of your hair."

"Definitely," Hyman says. "We can talk later. Or not! Your call, Mitchy."

"I'm calling the police if you don't leave," Mitch says, but he's grinning. "Go, shoo."

"I can think of a way to get them to go," Dylan says thoughtfully, sliding his hands back to Mitch's ass. "Unless they actually want to stay and watch, which is going to mean we have to stop and talk about boundaries and stuff—"

"Jesus, we're going, we're going," Tavares says, grabbing Hyman's arm and dragging him towards the door. "Have a good day, and we're sorry we interrupted."

"Bye," Hyman adds, and then they vanish out the door. The key clicks in the lock a few seconds later, and they both listen to the sound of the deadbolt turning, then the footsteps echoing down the hallway towards the elevator.

"Wow," Mitch says a solid thirty seconds after all the noise has faded.

Dylan starts laughing, tipping his head against the back of the sofa. "Wow," he agrees, staring up at Mitch's ceiling. "That was not how I expected today to go."

Mitch snorts, then leans into Dylan's line of sight. "You're okay with this, right?" he asks. "We can still tell them not to tell anyone else. They're good guys."

"I'm okay with this," Dylan promises. "I'm playing. I'm gonna keep playing, and I'm going to get better chances, and we're going to make this work no matter what."

"I love you," Mitch says, smiling at him.

"I love you too," Dylan replies. "But I'd also love it if we could figure out how to go back to the kissing part of the day."

Mitch laughs, full and loud and bright, and leans back down.

**Author's Note:**

> -another small note for restitched: i have actually already written the road trip OT3 fic you asked for in your prompts, hehe, so if you enjoyed this story then you might like that one as like a bonus thing. once author reveals happen, find me on twitter and i can link you. :)
> 
> -they honest to god once did [an interview in which they both said the other one loves cuddling](https://www.sportsnet.ca/hockey/juniors/the-interview-mitch-marner-and-dylan-strome/). even i can't make that level of unrepentant fluff up.
> 
> -this fic ends just before dylan is traded to chicago. they have to scramble to re-book so many flights that they already had to visit each other, but it works out pretty well for them.
> 
> -dylan calling alex when the trade hits: hey so i got traded to--  
> alex: if you want to fake date me because you don't want to tell the guys here yet let me know i'm all over that  
> dylan: actually, uh, i think i'm good, so--  
> alex: i have like six fake date ideas c'mon they're just gonna go to waste  
> dylan: you have... a real girlfriend...  
> alex: she planned half of these come ON dylan


End file.
